there are no new banana mantras to my street-crossings
no
my sure-fire detective skills are dead-on
my thin-sheet visibility
like tracing paper
draws delirious welcomes
i learn how to fear the stares
how to feel invisible
without an umbrella
i guess at corners
i sit on cobblestone’d avenues
i daydream with the pigeons
i read dangerous words and watch
unheard of home movies
that reminded me
what it is
to be a stranger